“Just” being kind

It’s something I try to remember to say at the end of every workshop:

If you are saying to yourself, “everyone else here deserved the praise they got for their writing because it was actually good. They were just being kind to me,” think about how you were feeling when you were giving feedback to another writer. You weren’t sitting there racking your brain for something positive to say. It was on the surface of your heart, on the tip of your tongue. You were a little bit bursting with genuine celebration of the gorgeousness of what this person brought, weren’t you? Could it be—maybe maybe—that the same is true for how other people responded to your stuff?

Invariably when I say this there’s a smile or two, a nod or two, a few sets of dropped shoulders. “Ah yes,” I imagine those relieved faces thinking. “Those gifts, that voice, those gems they pointed out were true. Maybe my writing actually did impact them. Maybe they won’t forget it.”

The relentless critic

Even in the magical container of a Soul Writing retreat, where love and connectedness and creativity flow a little more freely than they do in most spaces, the inner critic still slips in the door, sits quietly against the wall, and chimes in with its insidious, scripted whispers: “You are crap. They are better. You don’t deserve to be here. Why are you bothering?”

Goddamnit it is tiring. But if you’ve done any sort of inner critic work, you’ve likely found that there is no shutting it up, shutting it out, making it go away. It’s too firmly baked into most of our psyches. Arguing with it means giving it our attention—which, as with anything we give our attention to, only serves to amplify it.

In Soul Writing groups we’re doing the opposite of indulging the critic. We’re not ignoring it exactly, but we are filling the space—individually and collectively—with so much truth, so much love, so much honesty and vulnerability and yes, kindness, that for a couple of hours the critic is a little drowned, a little overpowered, a little revealed for the hollow voice it actually is.

It starts with a visualization—

—one that invites us to be more in our bodies, to pay attention to all the ways we are safe and alive and here here here, to fill up with our own energy, our own light, our own life force, and to let go of anything intruding or false. To shore up our boundaries to make sure it’s only us living inside them. We acknowledge our shared space, our connected hearts, and the love (the only thing that is real, ultimately) flowing between us all. It’s then that we invite inspiration to join the dance, to come through into this safe, grounded, clear, connected field we’ve created.

This is the space we spend our time writing and sharing in. As with the element of safety inherent in Soul Writing groups, there’s nothing to confirm or deny. It just is. There’s certainly no space for falseness or deceit.

And still, our critics try. They follow us into this space as far as they can, even though the air is noxious to them. It’s their original job to protect us, after all, and like the goddamn secret service they will do absolutely anything to make sure we are their version of “safe:” small, contorted, people-pleasing, or whatever they think will keep us from getting rejected.

“Thank you, darling protector parts. I acknowledge your intentions but I do not need you here. Or anywhere.”

See? Even to our critics we can be kind.

And so what if we are just being kind?

Kindness is what makes it safe to be ourselves. It’s what lets our hearts break, finally, letting a lifetime of feeling pour out. It opens our eyes to what we have, and have to give. Kindness fosters gratitude—and vice versa. It is more liberating than just about any other way of being in the world. Would it be the worst thing if all we did when we stepped into Soul Writing circles was to set the intention to be kind to ourselves and our fellow writers?

Sure, we are being kind, but that’s not all we’re being. We’re being freaking honored. We’re getting to see—because you have trusted us enough to reveal—what is true, exceptional, authentic and unique about your voice. We are gobsmacked. We are grateful. We are in love.

What would flow more naturally through and among us, then, but kindness?

What do you think? What have you experienced? Please share in the comments.

And come experience this rather magical field for yourself at a Mini-Retreat. The next one is on Saturday, November 9.